”“What? Why?”“Fancied a day in London. Hey, Bobby, you’ll never guess who I met on the train.”“Who?”“Do you remember that brunette in Ladz a couple of weeks ago that looked a bit like Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”“I think so. Nice tits, if I remember. But then, don’t they always?”“Sure. Well, she opposite me on the way up here.”“You’re joking? You sure it was her?”“Positive. I knew I’d seen her before, but couldn’t place her. So I asked her when we got in. She told me who she was and we swapped numbers.”“No way! She gave you her number?”“Yeah. It was weird. I expected her to tell me Fuck off. Or slap me and tell me Fuck off. But no.”“Mate, I bet you’ve been fake-numbered.”“Been what now?”“Fake-numbered. I bet she gave you a fake number to get rid of you.”“Do people do that?”“All the time.”“You sure?”“Sure, man. I’ve done it myself. Hell, I did it last night to this blonde bit who kept pestering me. Look, I’m going to give Andy a call, see if he’s up for a game. See ya later.”“Yeah.. Korsa saw the attack coming and casually sidestepped the attack, using her lower arms to push Aesha away. The Artucian woman saw the move coming and shifted her attack, pivoting on one foot and launching a spin kick.Korsa moved away from that attack too, seeing it coming from a mile away. As she danced away from the blue-skinned woman, she launched a pair of jabs at Aesha, catching the woman in the back. The blows sent Aesha sprawling, but not out of the fight. The woman rolled with the blows and came up, charging at Korsa, howling as she did.Korsa then initiated an attack of her own, a half power roundhouse right to the side of Aesha’s face. The blow was strong enough to knock the woman off her feet, sending her flying backwards. She landed on the flat of her back; the wind knocked out of her. She was stunned that Korsa had read each attack perfectly! She lay there, catching her breath while wrapping her head around the fact that she’d just been laid out like an amateur.“If that is.
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